


Finding Home

by HisAngelThursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, Doctor Castiel, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nurse Dean, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: After Cas is rejected by his homophobic parents, his roommate Dean invites him to stay for the holidays with him and his family.  He never expected it to turn into this.





	

“They don’t want me anymore.” 

Dean blinks in surprise, looking up to see his freshman roommate standing in the doorway, antiquated cellphone in his hands. To his surprise, the kid looks to be on the verge of crying, which is strange – Dean’s joked with his friends about how emotionless Cas appears to be. Or rather, had appeared to be, up till now. 

“Cas, you alright there, buddy?” Dean asks, chair screeching as he pulls away from his desk. He’d been trying to finish his research paper for his physiology class, but whatever Cas’s problem is seems to be more pressing. 

“They don’t want me,” Cas repeats, swallowing wetly. “My parents. They say don’t want me to come home for Christmas break, and they don’t want me contacting my siblings anymore.” 

Dean blinks comprehensively. “What? Why the hell not?” 

“They, ‘still love me,’” Cas snuffles, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his ever-present beige trench coat with one arm and making quotey fingers with the other. “But they ‘don’t approve of my lifestyle.’” 

Oh. Oh, so that’s what this is about. 

Dean hasn’t known Cas for all that long, and he doesn’t know a whole lot about him: just that he’s a bio major with plans to become a doctor (Dean himself is going into nursing), he’s cute (though he’d never, ever tell Cas that), not a little weird, and yeah, if the time he’d come home to find him making out with Crowley (the poncy British upperclassman from accounting who Dean already loathes with a passion) he is into guys.

His parents must not have been cool with it. 

“Jeez, Cas. I’m so sorry, man,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair as he searches desperately for something meaningful to say. “There anything I can do?” 

“N-not really,” Cas sniffs, blotting reddening eyes with his sleeve. The tears leave little wet splotches on the beige material. “I-I’m sorry for burdening you with this, Dean, but there aren’t very many people I can talk to here: it took me years to make friends at high school, and they’re all attending college elsewhere. My ‘people skills’ are ‘rusty.’” 

The quotey fingers are back, and Dean struggles not to smile. 

“Nah, don’t apologize, Cas. You can always talk to me,” Dean assures him. “And look, I don’t know you all that well, but I can tell already that you’re a great dude. If your parents don’t accept you, screw ‘em, right?” 

Dean thought he was being reassuring, but to his horror, Cas bursts out crying anew. “Y-you don’t understand, Dean,” he sobs. “I used to be their favorite: they doted on me, called me ‘God’s chosen.’ Now they don’t even want to look at me!” 

He sounds devastated, and Dean feels a sharp stab of pity for him. He barely remembers his parents – his mother died in a fire when he was four, and his dad took his own life shortly afterwards – but he does remember how much he cherished his mother’s love and affection, the sweet smell of her hair and the warmth of her hugs still lingering in his memory. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle that kind of rejection.

Without thinking, Dean moves forward, pulling Cas into a hug. He doesn’t resist, downright melting into Dean’s arms. 

Dean’s surprised by how right it feels, holding Cas like this: beneath his trench coat, he’s warm and toned, shoulders deceptively broad. With his head rested on Dean’s chest as it is, the disheveled shock of blackish hair tickles his nose, and Dean’s close enough to smell the stupid cinnamon scented shampoo he uses. 

It occurs to him then that he never wants to let go. But sadly, when Cas pulls away, he has to. 

“Apologies,” Cas mumbles abashedly, glancing pointedly down at the twin wet splotches he’s left on Dean’s tee shirt.

“No worries, man.” Dean clears his throat, trying not to show how much he already misses the warmth. In that moment, he makes a decision: “You’re comin’ home with me this Christmas,” he announces bluntly. 

Cas’s jaw works noiselessly for a moment or two, evidently as surprised by the offer as Dean is. “No, Dean, I-I couldn’t -” 

“No ‘buts’ about it, Cas,” Dean interjects firmly. “You’re down a family, you’re becoming part of mine: my folks, Bobby and Ellen, they took my brother Sammy and me in when we were little, and you can bet you’re ass they’ll take you in, too. They’d love to have a new addition the brood.”

“But I don’t want to intrude -” 

“Hey, what’d I just say about ‘buts?’” Dean interjects, pressing an index finger to Cas’s lips to shush him. His brain fizzles at the feeling of their soft, chapped flesh, but he pushes away the sensation away and refuses to acknowledge it. “You’re comin’ with me, Cas. And that’s final.” 

Dean hesitantly removes his finger, bracing himself for another protest, but none arrives. 

Cas looks up at him with soft, electric blue eyes, dark eyelashes still matted together from dried tears. 

“Thank you, Dean,” he says quietly. 

Dean grins at him, goofy and lopsided. He shouldn’t be so happy that Cas accepted his offer – he was just helping out a friend, that’s all. Wasn’t he? 

“Don’t mention it.” 

…

It’s four AM, and Dean wakes up to Cas lightly shaking his shoulder. He makes an indecipherable grunting noise, rubbing his eyes as he looks around the room: it takes him a moment or two to realize he’s in his childhood bedroom for Easter break, and not his college dorm.

“Dean? Dean, are you awake?” Cas rasps in a stage whisper. 

“Well, now I am,” Dean grumbles back. 

It takes him another moment to realize that the reason Cas is in here is not because he’s late for his dreaded eight thirty AM biology class, but because Cas sometimes sleeps in Dean’s room when he visits. They have a guest room, too, but that’s currently occupied with Bobby’s friend Rufus, who’s also visiting for Easter Sunday. Dean isn’t complaining. 

“This better be good, Cas,” Dean mumbles irritably, a little irked at his beauty sleep being interrupted. 

In the dark, he’s aware of Cas lowering his eyes abashedly. “Apologies. I’m frequently up at night, and I forget most people don’t keep my hours.”

Dean sighs. He’s no pushover, but when it comes to Cas he never can stay angry. “Don’t worry about it. What’s on your mind, buddy?”

“I…wanted to thank you,” says Cas, hesitantly. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d think he’d rehearsed this. “You consistently invite me into your home for holidays and family gatherings, allow me to intrude on the lives of your loved ones while asking nothing in return. These past two years would have been a very lonely time for me if not for your generosity, and I don’t believe I’ve ever properly thanked you for that. So thank you, Dean.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Dean sighs, scooting back into an upright sitting position. “First of all, yeah you have. You’ve thanked everyone, like, way more than necessary, and you don’t even need to anymore: you’re our family too now, Cas.” 

“Dean, I-” Cas starts to say, but Dean interrupts him. 

“And what’s more, you’re always saying stupid shit like ‘I’m sorry for intruding’ and ‘I appreciate you having me.’ You’re not intruding, and we’re not ‘having you:’ this is your home too now. You belong here, Cas. Capiche?” 

Cas sighs, and Dean can’t help but notice the delicate fan of his lashes as he lowers his gaze. “Yeah, I capiche.” 

“Good.” Dean smirks in spite of himself. “Now, get some sleep you crazy nocturnal bastard. Bobby’s makin’ pancakes tomorrow morning, and I’ll whup your ass if you make me sleep in.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas sighs, settling himself back down on the bed. 

Dean follows suit, almost instinctively wrapping his arms around Cas’s broad shoulders and pulling him close, snuggling into the warmth he exudes. Some part of him recognizes that this might be considered odd – they’re certainly not a couple, after all, just two pals sharing a bed for the sake of convenience – but Cas doesn’t seem to care, and by default, neither does Dean. 

So sue him for trying to conserve body heat, right? They’ll thank him when the heating bill plummets. 

… 

“I can’t believe you’re in freakin’ med school.” 

“Dean.” 

“No, seriously, man. That’s so damn cool I don’t know where to begin. You’re just like Doctor Sexy. Emphasis on the sexy,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows to make it look like he’s joking. He isn’t. 

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dean, you realize I haven’t even started, correct? I just got accepted this month – I won’t even be attending until this October.” 

“I know, I know. But still.”

At present, it’s just over one year later, visiting home after graduation, freshly obtained BA’s in tow. 

They’re still sharing the same bed, even though the guest room is vacant this time. No big deal, Dean thinks – we’re just used to it, and anyway, it’s not like anyone’s questioning it. It’s perfectly normal: just two bros sharing a bed, enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more, nothing less. 

There’s a long, comfortable silence, Dean stitching up the sleeve on a pair of his favorite green scrubs – the ones Cas says compliment his eyes – and Cas staring contemplatively down at his acceptance letter. 

Finally, Cas says something, so soft it’s barely audible:

“I think I might love you.” 

Dean chokes on nothing, a string of unintelligible syllables falling from his mouth. It doesn’t seem possible to him that Cas actually said what he thinks he just heard. 

“W-what?” he manages, after a moment or two.

Cas is looking down abashedly, as though he’s ashamed. 

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I didn’t say anything before,” he explains. “Moreover, I value our friendship immensely: it was one of the few things that kept me going through a very tumultuous period in my life, and I don’t want to lose or diminish that. But I’ve suspected this of myself for a long time, and I don’t want to hide it any longer.” He looks up, bravely meeting Dean’s baffled gaze, and reiterates, “I love you, Dean.” 

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “You, uh,” he stammers smartly. “You mean like, uh, bro kinda love, or chick-flick romance ‘we’re in love’-type love?”

“The latter category,” says Cas gravely. 

“Oh.” 

They stare at each other for a moment or two, then Cas offers, “If it would make you more comfortable, I could sleep in the guestroom-” 

“NO!” Dean blurts, louder than necessary. Collecting himself somewhat, he reiterates, “No. No, you’re uh…fine here. Always, Cas.” 

Cas nods quietly, expression unreadable. “Thank you, Dean.” 

A long silence, and Dean’s still too stunned to tell whether it’s awkward or not.

“Would you mind if I slept now, Dean?” Cas inquires. 

Dean stares mutely, taking a moment to register the question. “…Huh? Oh! Oh, yeah, you, uh.” He gesticulates vaguely, needle still pinched between his fingertips. “Yeah, you do that, Cas.”

Cas nods quietly, rolling over on his side. “Goodnight, Dean.” 

Dean swallows, nodding his head unnecessarily. “Yeah, g’night, Cas.”

… 

“Cas? Hey, Cas, wake up.” 

“Mmmf. What is it, Dean,” Cas grumbles. 

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you I love you, is all.” 

Brilliant blue eyes – currently underlined by angry dark circles – blink open, fixing Dean with a glower. 

“We’ve been married for four years,” he surmises grouchily. “And you wake me up at five o’clock in the morning to tell me that?” 

Dean shrugs unapologetically. “Well, yeah. I just figured I didn’t tell you enough, is all.” 

“At least twice a day for the past five years isn’t enough?” 

“Not for you it ain’t,” Dean grins, broadening as he sees Cas fighting a smile of his own. 

“You exasperate me,” Cas mutters warmly, rolling over to bury his face into the mattress of the king sized bed they now share. In their own bedroom. In their own house. 

Dean clears his throat pointedly.

Cas heaves a beleaguered sigh into the memory foam. “What.”

“You, uh. Forgetting something?” he inquires, trying not to sound too insecure about it.

Thankfully, Cas catches on. 

“I love you to the moon and back, Dean,” Cas grumbles. “But if you keep me awake any longer, I will make you sleep on the sofa.”

Dean smiles, feeling warm inside, and settles back down beside him. 

“Hey, Cas?”

Cas rolled over to fix him with a stare that would have killed a lesser man. “WHAT.” 

Dean grins. “Goodnight.” 

Cas sighs, eyelids fluttering closed. 

“Goodnight, Dean.”


End file.
